Harry
by Miss Aircastle
Summary: Lily is trying desperately to run away from what happened the night before at the Quidditch celebration party. And even though she means that figuratively, it's still very hard to do with a unwieldy body and a certain someone who won't let her be hangover in peace. [L/J Oneshot]


**A/N** : I've wanted to do a 'how did they come up with the name Harry' story for some time now and this happened suddenly.

Just a little something to keep you happy while I'm writing chapter 5 of Meddling.

Enjoy and please leave a fav or review if you liked it!

* * *

 **Harry**

 _I don't care what anyone says, I hope we lose the next Quidditch match._

Even though she realised that she had no one else to blame but herself, Lily was feeling pretty damn miserable. She was hiding in the darkest corner of the common room, as far away as she possibly could from all the noise.

So far, it wasn't doing her any good. As she took another sip from her scolding hot coffee, once again a fellow Gryffindor stopped at her table.

"Great party yesterday, huh Evans?"

Lily swallowed the urge to hit the boy leering down at her. Even though she wasn't quite sure if she could manage such a colossal feat of human strength right now. Her arms felt like logs.

"Yes, Jenkins" The crankiness was practically slapping him over the head. "It was loads of fun."

"You know, I'd never thought you'd be the type to –"

"Jenkins, please go away. I believe you have a very urgent meeting with your girlfriend, explaining to her what business your tongue had down Jess Akerman's throat."

The sixth-year blushed spectacularly and was gone with the blink of an eye. Lily smiled grimly to herself, glad that that particular piece of information had stayed with her. The rest of the night was kind of hazy. Jenkins had been the fourth person who'd tried to talk to her today and she wasn't having any of it.

Why couldn't she be hangover in peace?

Groaning (only partly internally), she rested her forehead on the cool table top and started wishing fervently for today to be over. If she just sat her quietly for a few more hours, maybe everyone would get the hint and stop bothering her. Or maybe she would slowly become one with the table, so no one _could_ see her anymore. Like some sort of ultimate non-verbal magic feat. She snorted at her own desperate plans.

No one bothered her for fifteen minutes and she started breathing a bit easier. She was even considering lifting her head again, when the absolute _worst_ happened. Someone was walking down the stairs of the boys' dormitory. Not walking quietly and ashamed – like one should on a day like this – but with a spring in their step. All loud feet and creaking steps and really, didn't that person have _any_ consideration for his hangover housemates?

If the selfishness had been all, Lily would've been able to deal with it. But no, then the new bane of her existence started to whistle. Loudly. And he (Lily was now convinced it was a he, no woman would be this insensitive) was coming her way. She clamped her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block the sound out. Her brain was actively rejecting the sound, going 'no, no, we cannot deal with this sound for at least four hours. Go back to where you came from.' Like it was pushing the horrible whistling back out of her ear again.

The Whistle Boy came even closer and now Lily's brain started to catch up with the sickening feeling that her stomach had the moment she heard him. She couldn't blame her brain for being this slow on the uptake, considering she'd had a sickening feeling in her stomach ever since she woke up. How does one know the difference between Too Much Alcohol and Impending Doom?

Apparently it was just a matter of time, because now Lily started to recognise the whistler, and clicked the spring in his step into place in her brain and _now_ she remembered the melody he was humming (ohpleaseMerlinno).She considered making a run for it, but quickly ditched the idea because she was pretty sure her body would simply break from _that_ effort. So she made herself even smaller, praying that he wouldn't see her, would ignore her…

"Wotcher Evans. How are you doing this fine morning?"

Why would she need a new bane, when there was always her old one?

"G'away Potter." Lily mumbled. "And keep your bloody whistling down, you sound like a bloody banshee."

"Well well well, look who's all rude on the day after." His amused voice came even closer and the creaking of the table told her that he'd taken a seat facing her. "Not having such a good time anymore, Lil?"

She knew she should telling him off for calling her 'Lil'. They were some sort of friends, but maybe something more? She didn't know exactly and her frayed nerves couldn't handle these fading lines between them on this most rotten of days.

"Go away Potter" she repeated, more forcefully this time "and leave us alone."

"Us?"

She could tell by the way he said that single word that he was holding back his amusement. She knew that if she lifted her head, she would see him staring at her, his eyes dancing with mirth and a smirk halfway across his lips. She could smell his shampoo, so she knew his hair would probably still be wet, half his usual mess, half plastered against his head.

Just an educated guess of course, not like she'd been watching him lately.

Slowly, she lifted her heard from the table, only to see if she got it right. The bleary vision sitting in front of her came into focus as she blinked.

From his hair to his smirk, she'd gotten it right. She shouldn't be so pleased about that fact.

She rested her head on one propped up arm and sighed.

"Me and my hangover, James. He's palpable enough today to become an actual person."

"I can imagine that. Does he have a name? I'd like to meet the bloke that can make you look so miserable." He was still grinning at her.

"James Potter" Lily answered, without missing a beat.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" His soft laughter was like a sip of hot tea on a cold day.

"Nah, your methods are too obnoxious for my hangover to be called James Potter. He's more like the quiet guy you never notice, the one everyone always forgets. Until he's suddenly there and you can't get him out of your life." Lily mused.

"No that doesn't sound like me." He agreed "Although you never got me out of your life either."

"I'm still working on that one."

"Of course you are." He winked at her and her stomach lurched. For the first time that day, it wasn't because she was about to hurl. "So, names." He was stroking the imaginary beard on his chin. "What about 'Johnny'?"

"Don't like it. It's too…"

"Jolly?"

"Yes, exactly. I was thinking something like 'Earl', or 'William'."

"Really, Evans? That makes him either an old grandfather or a cute six-year old. You can't do that to him."

Lily felt a grin tugging at her lips, finding strange comfort in their silly banter. He, on the other hand, was looking downright affronted on her yet-to-be-named hangover and Lily could kiss him for taking this conversation so serious. In a manner of speaking, mind you. This was one of the many interesting things about James, he would always give it his all. Quidditch, pranks, sometimes exams, friends, enemies, even _asking her out,_ he was 100% committed. Infuriating at first, now admirable. Though she would never admit that out loud, of course.

He was still going on about the names.

"..Alright I think I've got it. Harrison, that's what his name is."

He crossed his arms, looking mighty pleased with himself. The gesture brought back memories of the night before.

* * *

 _She's standing on a table, feeling bloody fantastic. The noise in the common room is deafening. Everyone is elated, running around on an adrenaline rush. She can see him in the back, surrounded by friends and admirers. He's the hero of the day, and everybody wants his attention. But he's looking at her._

 _He's looking at her. Oh dear. Take another sip of your drink, quick. Be casual. Like you don't care._

 _Time for a song. What was Black singing just now?_

* * *

The words of the song are almost coming back to her now.

"Evans? Are you still with me? And why are you blushing suddenly?"

A short tap on her hand made her snap out of it.

"Mm what? Oh nothing, just zoning out." She murmured. There was no way she was going to talk to him about yesterday. "You were saying?"

" _Harrison_ , Evans. It's brilliant."

"I like the sound of that. But maybe it's a bit…formal."

"Oi, with the demands. I'm telling you, his name is Harrison. Call it a hunch."

"Okay, fine. Harrison it is. I'm too tired to fight you on this. But I'm calling him Harry and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I could start whistling again."

The mischief in his voice should've been enough to make all the alarms ring in Lily's head.

"Please don't."

"Why? Because Harry can't handle the noise? Or because you don't want to be reminded of yesterday?"

* * *

" _CAPTAIN POTTER  
NO ONE'S HOTTER  
HE WON US THE MATCH  
BOY, IS HE A CATCH!"_

" _Once again people" Lily shouted from her place on top of the table "Like you mean it!"_

* * *

"Oh God." She buried her face in her hands. "Please Potter, distract me from my own thoughts I can't deal with them right now."

"How bad can they be?" He was clearly enjoying himself immensely.

"Can you stop being so awfully chipper, James? It's really starting to upset Harry."

"Tell him I'm sorry, but he's got to cut me some slack." James leaned towards her, like he was about to share something secret. "The girl I've been asking out for years led the entire house of Gryffindor in a rousing rendition of my new favourite song 'Captain Potter' yesterday. And while yes, I'm acknowledging that she had way too much to drink, I can't help but be a happy camper today. Harry understands that, right?"

"The moment my body starts working properly again, I'm going to strangle Black for writing that stupid song." Lily grumbled. She knew she'd been resembling a tomato for minutes now and it was making her extremely antsy. "Fortunately for you, Harry's way more understanding than I am."

"Good man. I'm starting to like him, actually. Do you think he'd be in for a cup of tea this afternoon in the kitchens?"

"If I'd been living underneath a rock for the last two years, I'd be surprised you're moving that fast." Lily quipped wryly, the shy smile on his face a reward in itself. "But Harry doesn't do non-alcoholic beverages. Not really his thing."

"Ah, I should've known. Maybe you should come with, to make it easier on him." He suggested, running a hand through his hair.

Lily was glad to see that even though her antics from yesterday made her feelings glaringly obvious, she wasn't alone with her nerves.

"Or, y'know – and this is just a suggestion - maybe I should ditch Harry altogether and come alone. I mean, the lack of alcohol might make him nervous."

He grinned at her, genuinely. "You might be on to something there, Evans. I'll bring my patented anti-hangover potion to make sure he doesn't sneak in again."

"Hm. Making me look bad _and_ sneaking in. Maybe's he your relative after all."

"Maybe. But nothing could ever make you look bad. Not even Harry." James told her casually, and the compliment made her feel better than any anti-hangover potion ever could.

She smiled and he smiled back and just like that, the moment seared into her memory. She would always remember the two of them sitting there, at the start of something new.

Even years later, when she looks down on her tiny little son, she starts humming 'Captain Potter' without meaning to.

No, he would never make her look bad. Only better.


End file.
